


in the times in between

by jakia



Series: time travel [1]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Gen, M/M, TW: Homophobia, Time Travel, it's not too terribly bad for any of the above but I'd like to warn just in case, tw: Caleb's entire backstory, tw: fantasy racism, tw: miscarriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-09
Updated: 2020-03-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:16:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23075359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jakia/pseuds/jakia
Summary: Una Ermendrud meets Caleb Widogast for the first time when she is nineteen and pregnant, and he’s passed out in her azaleas.[Caleb travels back in time and saves his parents, the fanfic. Shadowgast towards the end; first half is almost completely gen.]
Relationships: Essek Thelyss/Caleb Widogast, Leofric Ermendrud & Caleb Widogast, Una Ermendrud & Caleb Widogast
Series: time travel [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1704427
Comments: 111
Kudos: 1060





	in the times in between

**Author's Note:**

> I hope Caleb's parents are realistic. I tried to make them seem human, while still keeping track of the one thing we know about them, which is that they were good people, according to Caleb.

Una Ermendrud meets Caleb Widogast for the first time when she is nineteen and pregnant, and he’s passed out in her azaleas.

He looks fairly harmless: his hair is longer than hers, and he’s pretty skinny, which is why she doesn’t scream at the sight of an unknown man passed out in her garden. But she does grab a very large stick, and uses it to prod him awake.

He blinks to consciousness slowly, and stares at her with vibrant blue eyes like he’s seeing a ghost. 

“Do you need medical attention?” She says at first, in Common, her voice heavily accented. She knows Common, of course--she’s a very clever woman--but she doesn’t use it often, and so the sound of it seems foreign to her own ears. 

He continues to blink at her slowly, unmoving other than his eyes.

“Do you need help?” She asks in Zemnian, wondering if maybe this strange fellow doesn’t speak Common and that’s why he’s not responding. “I’m sorry, I only know Zemnian or Common. I can try to find someone who speaks Elvish if you’d like--I think the Schneiders speak a little elvish and--”

“I speak Zemnian,” he says finally. He groans, and rubs his head. “My apologies. The spell left me fuzzier than I expected.”

She offers him a hand and helps pull him to his feet. “Spell?” she asks, curious about this strange man in her garden.

He looks familiar, too, though she cannot place  _ why  _ he looks so familiar.

“I’m a wizard by trade,” he explains in perfect Zemnian as they walk towards the cottage. He stumbles a little bit as he walks, as if his feet are treading foreign soil. His Zemnian is flawless and articulate, though, showing signs of a better education than Una ever received. “A spell went--slightly off kilter, and left me in a different place than I expected. I apologize for ruining your garden.”

She smiles at him kindly. “The azaleas will be fine. We grow a lot of flowers here in Blumenthal; I’m sure they’ll get better soon. Are you from around here? Your accent is impeccable.”

He returns her smile warmly. “I am from the Zemni Fields, yes. I do not believe we’ve been introduced…?”

“Una Ermendrud,” she offers her hand for him to shake. “And you are?”

“Caleb Widogast,” he shakes her hand, and then blinks at her, as if studying her. “You are with child.”

“Yes,” she smiles softly, patting her belly. “We are going to name him Bren if it’s a boy. Although Caleb is a nice name,” she compliments him, her grin toothy. 

“Congratulations,” he says softly. “You and your husband must be happy. Although you seem quite young to me.”

He reminds her in that moment of her father, which is why she doesn’t get offended. “A little bit, I suppose, but with Leofric gone so much I--” she stops talking, struggling to come up with the words to explain what she means. 

“You sound lonely,” he offers, putting into words what she struggles to articulate.

“I suppose I am,” she smiles. “It’s just been me and Bren for a while now, and to be honest, he doesn’t say much,” she rubs her belly fondly. “Would you like a cup of tea, Mr. Widogast? To wear off the dizziness of your spell?”

For a brief moment, she is certain he is going to say no, but then he surprises her. “Tea would be lovely, if you are sure I am not imposing.”

“Not at all,” she grins. “I’ve never met a wizard before,” she says, unable to keep the curiosity out of her voice. 

He stares at her again, blue eyes radiating a sadness deeper than anything Una’s ever known. “Well. I hope I do not disappoint.”

* * *

He stays for an hour, and drinks his tea black; they talk about minor things: the beautiful spring weather, their favorite flowers, tea. “My friend is a gardener: he makes his own tea. Perhaps the next time I visit, I will try and bring you some.” 

It’s such a pleasant thought that Una beams at him. “Oh, please do!”

She asks him a little bit about magic, and what he was trying to do when he landed in her garden. “Teleportation can be tricky,” he explains, and while she cannot explain it, she knows he is lying to her. It’s not a  _ direct  _ lie: teleportation probably is very tricky, but he’s not telling her everything. “Sometimes you end up slightly off from where you intended. In my case, I was trying to get to Rexxemtrum, and ended up in your garden instead.”

She does not press him about his secrets, although she really wants to. It’s rare for such a magical thing to happen in Blumenthal, but she was raised with manners, and so she does not question him much further. 

He does ask about her baby, though. “Bren is a lovely name.”

“It was my father’s,” she explains, her eyes a little sad. “He died in the spring, right after Leofric and I married. I wanted to honor him by naming my son after him.”

“A noble goal. I suppose he’s the only child you want, then?”

She laughs a little bit at him. “Don’t be silly; I want a large family--Leofric and I both do, we want lots and lots of children, to help on the farm and just to have. We thought we’d start with Bren and go from there.” 

Mr. Widogast looks a little surprised at that, and then a little sad, but doesn’t comment any further.

Before he leaves he fixes things around the house that Leofric has been meaning to fix: the squeaky door, the loose floorboard, the crack in the window. He does it all with magic, with a simple wave of his hand, as if it costs him nothing at all to fix these little inconveniences in her life. 

She tries to offer him gold, but he refuses. “It’s payment for the tea and conversation,” he says simply, as if her company is kindness enough. “You are going to have a baby soon. It would not do for you to die of frost once winter arrives.”

“I can build a good fire,” she claims, arms crossed, and she notices how he winces when she says that. “But I appreciate what you’ve done.”

“It was nothing,” he blinks at her again, like he’s seeing beyond her. “Bren is a good name, for the baby. Perhaps I will stop by again, after he is born, to meet him.”

“I hope that you do,” she nods at him. “Thank you again, Mr. Widogast.”

“Call me Caleb,” he insists, and then he is gone, and she doesn’t see him again for five years.

.

* * *

.

The next time Caleb Widogast arrives at her house, it is winter, and Bren is five and obsessed with an orange tabby kitten he found.

Mr. Widogast is at her door this time, though he seems as equally as frazzled as he was last time, especially when it’s Bren who opens the door for him. “Oh. Your baby is not a baby anymore, I see.”

“Mr. Widogast!” Una gasps from the kitchen, wiping her hands off on a kitchen towel before she goes to greet him. She gives him a big hug, mostly because she feels as though the strange man before her needs it, like he doesn’t have enough hugs in his life. “Welcome back!”

In front of the fireplace, Leofric raises an eyebrow, standing and heading towards the doorway. “Mr. Widogast?”

“The wizard!” Una beams. “You know, the one who fixed the window when I was pregnant with Bren? This is him!”

Mr. Widogast smiles kindly at Leofric, and offers his hand to shake. “Your wife was kind to me after a spell backfired. I hope I am not imposing.”

“Not at all,” Leofric shakes his hand. “You saved us quite a bit of time and gold with your repairs. As far as I’m concerned, you are always welcome. Please, come in.”

Mr. Widogast hesitates. “I do not wish to impose. I only wanted to drop off a few things, but it seems my timing is a bit off,” he looks down at Bren with a warm smile. “I do not think he needs the baby things I brought.”

“He might not,” Una agrees, welcoming Mr. Widogast into her home and taking his coat. “But the next baby will appreciate it.”

He stops in his tracks, his coat only half off. “You are with child again?” He asks. There is something about his voice that is impossible for her to place; something like fear, although that is not quite the right word.

So instead, she pats her relatively flat stomach. “Yes; not far enough to show, though.” 

Mr. Widogast’s eyes are sad. “I never realized.”

“How would you know?” Una laughs at him. “Would you like to stay for dinner?”

“I--”

Before Mr. Widogast can respond, Bren is shoving the kitten in his face. “Do you wanna see my cat?” Mr. Widogast jumps back like he’s been shocked. “There are more kittens in Mrs. Webber’s barn but Papa says I can only have one and I can’t decide which one I want and--”

Mr. Widogast smiles kindly, and then snaps his fingers. Instantly, a magical cat appears in their living room floor, an orange tabby not unlike the kitten Bren has been obsessed with.

Bren nearly drops the kitten, but catches her just in time. His eyes are wider than his face. “ _ Magic cat. _ ”

“His name is Frumpkin,” Mr. Widogast kneels in front of Bren. “He’s a creature of fey. Technically he could look like whatever I wanted him to look like, but I like cats, so…”

Bren drops the kitten onto the floor, and then launches into a thousand different questions; Mr. Widogast is kind enough to humor him, and Una takes that as a yes, he  _ is  _ staying for dinner, so she walks back to the kitchen to add a few more potatoes to the stew.

Leofric follows her, surprisingly. “So that is your wizard friend, huh?”

“He is a good man,” she explains, peeling potatoes. “He was kind enough last time, fixing the things that he did in exchange for a cup of tea.”

“Yes, but Una,” Leofric looks back into the other room, where the man is making the cat float, much to Bren’s amazement. “He looks like he could be your  _ twin. _ ”

She stops peeling potatoes for a moment, and looks back at the man who is doing a stellar job of entertaining her five year old on the floor. She didn’t notice before, but she can see the resemblance: the long red hair, the blue eyes, the dimple on his chin. 

She picks up the potato. “He reminds me more of my father, actually,” she explains, cutting the potato up into cubes. “We don’t look  _ that  _ much alike.”

“It’s  _ uncanny _ ,” Leofric shakes his head. “Do you have a secret brother?”

“ _ Stop _ .”

“A secret wizard brother?” He teases, putting his chin on her shoulder. His dark brown beard is scratchy. “Are you secretly a princess? Did I marry into royalty and didn’t know it?”

She chucks part of a potato at him.

* * *

At dinner, Mr. Widogast is quiet and polite, and doesn’t eat much. For the most part, he entertains Bren with stories about magic and cats, but he does talk a little bit with Leofric.

“You are a soldier, yes?” He asks, dipping bits of his bread into the stew. 

Leofric takes a healthy bite and nods. “Ay, when I’m not working the farm.”

“Where are you stationed primarily?”

“The Ashguard Garrison, usually. It’s not far, but they want us there to keep an eye on them. Watch out for any cricks that might attack.”

It is subtle, and Una would not have noticed if she was not keeping an eye on it, but Mr. Widogast tightens his grip on his spoon. “I do not believe the drow of Xhorhas like that term very much, Mr. Ermendrud.”

“What, crick?” Leofric snorts into his stew. “Are you some sort of Xhorhasian sympathizer or something?”

“Not at all. I am loyal to my Empire, of course,” Mr. Widogast bites his lower lip. “But when you travel as frequently as I do, you learn that people are just people, Mr. Ermendrud, regardless of where they are from.” He sets his spoon down carefully. “I have friends who you would call cricks. I have friends you’d call devil-born, and beastlike, and giant-kin, and yet I’d consider each of them to be the closest thing I have to family,” he shakes his head. “They are all just people, in spite of our differences.”

For a brief moment, Una is worried that a fight may break out. She loves her husband, of course, but he does have a bit of a temper, and dislikes being told he’s wrong. But to her surprise, he merely nods in agreement. “That is fair. My apologies, Mr. Widogast.”

“An open mind,” Mr. Widogast smiles. “That’s all I ask.”

“Are you a soldier too?” Bren asks at Mr. Widogast’s elbow, but it’s a good enough question that Una and Leofric both watch the man, awaiting his answer.

“I like to think of myself as a scholar first, and soldier is probably not the best description for someone like me, but I, ah,” he chews his piece of bread, more to stall his answer than out of hunger. “I have fought before, on behalf of our King.”

“Then we are not so different, you and I,” Leofric smiles warmly. 

Mr. Widogast blinks at him, slowly, as if realizing something about himself. “No. I suppose we are not.”

* * *

After supper, Mr. Widogast cleans the dishes with a simple wave of his hand, and then he gets to work. He fixes some of Bren’s toys that he’s broken, and the couch that’s missing part of one of its legs, and the window that doesn’t want to open completely upstairs. Then he heads outside, to the fields with Leofric: with a giant cat’s paw, he tills the soil and spreads fertilizer into the ground, accomplishing in an hour what would have been months of work for Leofric.

“I--thank you,” Leofric blinks at him. “Do you want payment? We don’t have much but we can do something--”

Mr. Widogast shakes his head. “There is very little material wealth that I desire in the world. No, you and your wife have been kind to me, and that kindness deserves reward.”

“We cannot thank you enough,” Una gasps, shaking his hand. “You’ve done us a great service.”

“It is no trouble,” he says. Then, from the ether, he pulls out a box of things and hands it to Una. “Blankets, for the baby. Tea from my friend, who I told you about before.”

“This is too much,” Leofric shakes his head. “Surely we can do  _ something _ to pay you back--”

“Pay it forward instead,” Mr. Widogast says. “Continue being kind. Love that boy of yours--he is very clever. And,” he smiles, his eyes lit up like he knows some sort of conspiracy. “Frumpkin is a very good name for a cat.”

“Will we see you again?” Una asks, her heart warmed by the kindness of the man in front of her.

He squeezes her hand gently. “I do hope so, Mrs. Ermendrud. I hope so.”

Then he is gone, and it is only when they are walking back inside does she realize she never once told him that Leofric was a soldier, the last time he was here.

.

* * *

.

A week later, she has a miscarriage and loses the baby. 

The medic in town tells her that she did nothing wrong; that sometimes, these things happen, and there is nothing to be done about it. He warns her not to try and get pregnant again, that her body struggled enough to carry one child to completion, and that if she got pregnant again it might mean her death. Gone then is the dream she had of having a large family, of having a mess of children and never being lonely. 

Bren will be her only, it seems.

She wraps herself in the blankets Mr. Widogast left, and drinks almost all of the tea he brought, and makes sure to cuddle Bren and Frumpkin both as often as possible.

* * *

There are a few weeks then, when Bren and Leofric are both gone, and Una thinks the loneliness of it might kill her. Bren is seven now, and Leofric wants to take him to meet his side of the family up north, a boy’s trip. It’s dangerous to leave the farm unattended, so Una stays behind while her boys go north for a few weeks. Winter is thawing around her, but there is still a chill to the air, even if it is technically spring.

Of course, that is when Mr. Widogast appears again, lying in her garden again.

This time, of course, he laughs when she prods him with a stick. “I can never get the timing right,” he muses, pulling himself up. “What year is it?”

“810 PD,” she tells him. _ “Why?” _

“Getting closer,” he grins, brushing the flower petals off of his jacket. “You look well.”

“Thank you?” She offers with a laugh, leading him to her cottage. “Tea?”

“Tea would be lovely,” he walks into the cottage, and notices the emptiness. “Where is your husband and son?”

“Up north, visiting Bren’s grandmother and uncle,” she explains. “So it is just me here, by my lonesome.”

“That won’t do,” Mr. Widogast smiles cheekily. “Luckily, I do not have plans for a little bit. I could stay and keep you company for a while, if you wouldn’t be averse to my presence?”

_ Oh _ , she has missed him, this strange magic man who appears every few years or so. “You are always welcome, Mr. Widogast.”

“Caleb,” he insists.

“Una,” she insists back.

“Fair enough, Mrs. Una,” he says, and follows her into the cottage.

* * *

He stays, and he helps. He keeps her company, and using his magic cat paw, tends to the farm, and keeps fixing things and making improvements to the house--fixing the roof, extending the barn door, creating from nothing a new pillow for Frumpkin. He builds a desk for Bren, who has needed one for a while now, and brings him a few books--a generous gift, given how rural and isolated Blumenthal is. But the thing she understands about Mr. Widogast is that he is generally a generous person, or so he has always been towards her family.

Once does she catch him writing what looks to be a letter. “Who is that to?” she asks, startling him slightly.

“Ah,” he blushes slightly. “It’s a letter, to, ah, my partner.”

Never once, in the seven years it’s been since she’s met Caleb Widogast, has it occurred to her that he might have a wife or a family. To her, he has always been this strange man of magic who shows up at times and fixes everything that is currently wrong in her world. “I didn’t realize you were married!”

“I’m not,” he explains, rubbing the back of his head nervously. “I--well, not  _ yet _ , at least. I’ve considered it, but I’ve not gotten around to asking just yet, and I--”

“Well, you better get on that then,” Una chides him, teasingly. “It’s terrible to make a young lady wait like that, especially if you have been together for a while.”

Mr. Wid-- _ Caleb _ stops, hesitantly, tapping his quill. “A young gentleman, actually,” he says quietly, as if he’s unsure how Una will react to his confession.

_ Oh! _

Blumenthal is a small town; everyone knows everyone, and everyone knows everyone’s business and people tend to do the same as the generation before them. Una’s never met a man who loves another man before, but she hears it’s common, in bigger cities and towns like Zadash.

She doesn’t judge Mr. Widogast, though. How could she, when he’s been nothing but kind to her and her family?

“It would be terrible to make him wait as well,” Una says finally, squeezing Caleb’s shoulder gently. 

“You don’t mind?” He asks quietly, his voice soft. It strikes Una then that he is terribly young, despite the lines on his face. “That my partner is a man?”

“Of course not. You’ve been so good to us, why would who you choose to love matter?”

Caleb blinks, and Una thinks he may start to cry. “Not everyone feels the same way you do. Tell me: if your boy Bren decided to bring home a young man that he loves, would you and your husband feel the same?”

She pauses and considers his question. It’s hard for her to answer, of course: right now Bren is seven and thinks the most interesting thing in the world is the frogs that jump out of springs, and still thinks girls have cooties. But it does not take her long to formulate an answer. “It would be surprising, I think, but if it was someone Bren really loved, who would we be to stop him?”

Oh, Caleb is crying, now, and squeezing her hand gently. “You are a good person, Una Ermendrud,”

She wraps her arms around Caleb and gives him a gentle hug, letting him cry on her shoulder for a bit. “Were your parents unkind to you or your partner?”

“My parents died before they could meet him,” he explains, a little shyly. “I’ve always wondered how they would react, if they knew. He’s certainly not what they must have expected--I grew up in a small town like this one, so I always wondered…” He stops, and bites his lip. “My friend Beauregard, she loves women, and only women, and her family treated her terribly when they found out. My parents were good people, but I still always wondered…” He squeezes her hand again. “You are a good person. The world needs more people like you in it.”

She leans forward, and kisses Caleb on the forehead. “Would you like to tell me about him?”

So he does:

She doesn’t learn the broad strokes: she still does not know his name, or what he looks like exactly. But she does learn that Caleb loves him dearly: that when they met, his partner tutored him in magic. That both Caleb and his partner have made terrible mistakes in their past, and part of the appeal for both of them is that they work together to try and be better people. She learns that his partner comes from a family of wealth and prestige, but has given that all up to be with Caleb, and that they want to try and start a school together.

“That’s a good dream,” she tells him, because it is. “You must love him a lot.”

“I did not think I was capable of loving someone as much as I love him,” Caleb tells her softly. 

“Why aren’t you together right now, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Ah, that is...complicated. We are together, still, but uh, magic, and--” he scratches the back of his head, looking not at her but the ground below. “There are things still that we both want to accomplish, before we open our school. And while we are apart at the moment, we both know that it is only temporary.”

“The next time you visit, you must bring him with you,” Una insists. 

Caleb laughs at her. “He would not be welcome in these parts, I do not think.”

She looks down and squeezes his hand. “In my home, he would always be welcome. Anyone you love would be.”

He blinks back tears. “Thank you, mu--Una,” he corrects himself. 

“And for Pelor’s sake, ask him to marry you!”

He laughs, and wipes his eyes. “Yes ma’am.”

* * *

He stays for three days, longer than he’s ever stayed before, and he keeps her from going crazy in her loneliness. He stays in Bren’s room and is a perfect gentleman: her home has never been more clean, and she finds he has planted more azaleas in her garden, to replace the ones he keeps accidentally destroying.

He leaves the day before Leofric and Bren return; of course, she tells Leofric about it immediately.

“You are telling me a strange man stayed in my house for several days?” Leofric asks, concern on his face. “And I shouldn’t be worried about it?”

She rolls her eyes. “He was a perfect gentleman, _honestly_ Leofric--”

“I’m just saying, there was a man here alone with my wife--”

“He has a boyfriend,” Una tells him, before realizing that that was perhaps not her secret to share. She winces slightly, but doesn’t take it back.

Leofric is silent for a moment. “Oh.”

“ _ Oh _ indeed. He is not interested in me, I don’t think.”

Leofric is quiet; for a moment, she worries that he may disappoint her, and say something unkind about Mr. Widogast, but then he shrugs: “Well, who am I to judge? The man has only ever done good things for us. I suppose it doesn’t matter then who he likes. I may think it’s strange but if it makes him happy, then I suppose it’s fine.”

Una beams at him, pride on her face. 

.

* * *

.

The next time she sees Caleb Widogast, her Bren is twelve and growing like a weed. When Mr. Widogast arrives, Bren is gone, out in the fields helping his father plant seeds for the fall.

He looks frazzled when she opens the door, but he returns her hug warmly. “You didn’t bring your boyfriend?” She teases him. “Or is he your husband now? Come in, please.”

Caleb smiles at her kindly, and takes his boots off at her front door as not to track mud into the house. “I’m afraid I cannot stay long. I was just in the neighborhood, and wanted to make sure all is well in your home.”

“Everything is fine,” she laughs at him. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“These are dangerous times. Please do not fault me for being paranoid in my old age.”

“Old age,” she studies him softly. “You’ve not aged a bit since I’ve met you!”

“I have,” he insists, bending over and picking Frumpkin up. “It must not seem as much, because we see each other so infrequently.”

“I suppose you’re right,” she shakes her head. “Tea?”

“No thank you,” Caleb looks around her home, inspecting it quietly. “Where is your boy? I saw Leofric in the field--”

“Out with his father, I suspect,” Una says without worry or concern. “Or Leofric has sent him to town on an errand.”

“He’s how old, now?”

“Twelve. He’ll be thirteen in the summer.”

Caleb whistles. “Growing up fast, then.”

At that time, the front door slams open, and in comes her Bren, stomping muddy boots into her living room. “Mutti, Papa asked me to tell you he needs the rake, and he can’t find it.”

Una rolls her eyes. “Bren, don’t you take another step in here in those shoes! And tell your father that it is probably in the barn.”

Bren rubs his feet against the rug, staying near the door. “I looked there, and I didn’t see it.”

“Look  _ again  _ then, Bren, I have company--”

“It’s fine,” Caleb smiles at her kindly as the cat jumps off of his lap. “I need to leave soon, anyway. Stay well, Una,” he turns and looks at Bren sternly. “And you should listen to your Mutti,”

Bren scrunches his nose in disagreement, but knows better than to argue.

“Until we meet again, Mrs. Una,” Caleb says, walking to the front door to grab his boots. He steps in the mud Bren has dragged in, and he scrunches his nose in disappointment, and--

Una has always thought Mr. Caleb looked like her father; it was part of why she ever invited him into her home in the first place, because the familiarity seemed so sudden. But with his nose scrunched up like that, she realizes he doesn’t look like her father at all.

He looks exactly like  _ Bren. _

She opens her mouth, gaping at him like a fish. “Mr. Caleb--” she goes to start, but then the wizard is  _ gone _ , teleported right out of her living room, and it is just her and Bren, now.

* * *

Mr. Caleb does not return for a long time.

At fifteen, her Bren is invited to join a magic school, a prestigious academy up in Rexxentrum. It is a great honor, a rare opportunity not offered to many.

Leofric is all for it; Una, however, has her doubts.

“It’s a way for him to serve his country, Una,” Leofric tells her, late at night when she is full of worry. She knows, even if Leofric would never say it, that her husband is disappointed in their only child. She knows he wishes the boy were stronger, or faster, more physically fit than their awkward, lanky son, a boy who is more comfortable with books than he is plowing the fields. “He knows where his talents are, and he is almost grown, now. This will be a good opportunity for him, you’ll see.”

But he will  _ leave me _ , Una wants to argue, unwilling to have her baby--her  _ only _ \--leave her so soon, and not fully grown yet, either.

She gets accustomed to the idea soon enough, though, especially since Bren is so excited about it.

“You should seek out Mr. Widogast in Rexxentrum,” she tells him as she watches her son haphazardly pack his belongings.

“Who?”

Frumpkin is on his bed, sleeping; she is an older cat now, more content lazing in the patch of sunlight than catching rodents, but still a beloved figure in the household. “You know who I mean. Mr. Widogast! The wizard who helped us a few times, remember.”

Bren looks at her like she’s crazy. 

“You’ve met him! He made his cat dance for you!” Una argues, her hands firm on her hips. “Oh, but you were quite young then, I suppose.”

“I have no memory of this,” Bren shakes his head. “You mean to tell me a  _ wizard _ came to our house?”

“Yes!” Una laughs at him. “He teleported by accident, and ended up in my garden. Then I invited him in for tea. He visits occasionally, although I haven’t seen him in quite some time. I hope he is well.”

“ _ Mama _ ,” Bren puts his hands on her shoulders. At fifteen, he is taller than her, but only just barely. “There is no way a wizard from Rexxentrum accidentally teleported into your garden.”

“He did though!”

“And he, what, stayed for tea? Wizards are  _ important _ , Mama.”

“Of course they are,” she assures Bren. “But Mr. Widogast was always so kind to us. You can ask your father, too! He’ll tell you about him,” but then she bites her lip, and looks up at her boy again. “I just don’t want you to be alone, in that big city by yourself.”

“I won’t be alone, Mutti. Astrid and Wulf will be with me!”

“At least  _ try  _ and see if he’s there. I know he’d look out for you, if he knew you were there.”

Bren rolls his eyes, but he does tell her he’ll ask about Mr. Widogast, even if Una doesn’t quite believe that he will.

* * *

It is a year before she sees her baby again.

And then, there’s the fire.

* * *

“BREN!” She screams, top of her lungs, as loud as she can. Outside, she knows her son, her baby, is just outside these doors, but he won’t come towards her. All around her is smoke and flames, and she can barely  _ breathe _ , but all she can think about is Bren, her son, her baby, just outside with those horrible people, and--

Leofric kicks at the door; it doesn’t budge. Instead, the flames just get larger and larger.

_ This is it _ , Una thinks, holding Frumpkin in her arms tightly, panic racing through her body. Is this how her life is going to end? Burning to death in her family cottage, with her son just outside the door, in danger?

There is a quiet  _ pop _ , and then Mr. Widogast is behind her. “Not too late, then,” he says unexpectedly, before he grabs her and Leofric both, and teleports them both away from their burning home.

There is a tugging sensation in her stomach, and as soon as they land she feels like vomiting, the smoke and ash getting into her lungs. But she isn’t surrounded by fire anymore, and the night air is cold on her skin.

Beside her, Leofric vomits into the grass. She drops Frumpkin onto the ground, and the old cat hisses at her. 

“ _ Bren _ ,” she breathes, panic radiating through her body. “Bren, we’ve got to go back for Bren--”

Caleb Widogast grabs her arm. “You can’t go back to him,” he says softly, sadly. “You can’t save him.”

She struggles in his grasp. “That’s  _ my  _ son, that’s my Bren, I’ve got to--”

He pulls on her again. “ _ I’m _ Bren, Una.”

She stops struggling immediately. When she looks at him, she notices Caleb-- _ Bren _ \--is crying. “I’m so sorry, Mutti,” he says, and there are tears streaming down his face, and  _ oh _ , he is her Bren, isn’t he, this older man who is practically her age, but who  _ looks  _ like her son; he has her eyes, and her hair, but Leofric’s nose and jaw, and his hair is too long and he is too thin but he is  _ Bren _ , even if she cannot explain how. “I know you must have so many questions. But know that that boy you left behind regrets what just happened more than he could ever put into words.”

She holds his face in her hands, and studies him. Studies the lines on his face, and the freckles, and the scars. “ _ How? _ ” She asks.

Leofric puts a hand on his shoulder. “I don’t even understand how we got here. What--what happened?”

Behind them, there is a rustling in the trees. “Did it work?” A voice asks in heavily-accented Common, and from the trees comes a dark skinned elf with bright white hair. “Were you successful, Caleb?”

Caleb--or Bren, she supposes, smiles softly. “ _ Essek _ ,” he says, his voice full of love, and _oh_ , Una is able to put two and two together.

(Not welcome in Blumenthal, indeed.)

Leofric is not, apparently; he punches the drow in the face before Bren or Una can stop him. 

* * *

The drow man--Essek, apparently--is holding an icy hand to his face. Leofric has apologized multiple times, but the drow keeps brushing him off. “It will heal,” he assures him. “Go, listen to your son. I apologize for startling you.”

Caleb--or Bren, or both, she’s not sure how to think of him in her mind--leads them to a fallen tree, and sits them down.

“I did go to Soltryce Academy, and I did learn magic,” he tells his parents, sitting across from them on a stump. “But my teacher, Ikithon, took a rather special interest in me. He trained me, and Astrid, and Eodwulf, to be  _ vollstreckers _ . Assassins, on behalf of the Empire. And our final test was to eliminate any ties we had to our homes and families, so that we could be truly anonymous.”

Her heart shatters in her chest. Her baby? An  _ assassin?  _ No wonder he had been so distant lately, not answering any of her letters.

“I failed, of course,” Caleb-Bren explains. “Not at killing you, but at  _ surviving _ , afterwards. After your deaths I--broke, mentally. Due to the guilt, I think. I knew in my soul you had done nothing wrong, and my mind--couldn’t handle it, I suppose. I spent a great many years in an asylum before finding my mind again. Then I got out, of course, and found my way, slowly, but by then the two of you had been dead for years, and I,” Caleb-Bren bites his lips. “Well, I traveled. I met some of the most amazing people. I--”

“He saved the world,” Essek says with a fond smile on his face, still holding ice to his eye. “Brokered peace between two warring nations. Defeated a god. Invented a spell that allowed him to _ travel through time, _ ” Essek grins. For a brief moment, Una is slightly intimidated by his fangs, and by how very not-human he looks. But then he looks towards her son softly, and she chides herself for judging him. “You should be quite proud.”

Caleb-Bren rolls his eyes. “You helped with like,  _ half  _ of that.”

“Hush and let me brag about you to your parents, love.”

“ _ Love _ ,” Una repeats stoically, and turns her attention to the drow. “So you are the partner, then.”

Essek nods in acknowledgement; Leofric’s eyes dart back and forth between the two. He opens his mouth to say something, but Una kicks him subtly. 

Leofric doesn’t say anything.

She turns her attention back to her son. “So, why come back for us, then? Why save us, if you’ve lived such a life?” And it’s a bit hard for her to conceptualize, the fact that her son has done all of these amazing things. In her mind, he is still a little boy, tracking mud through her living room. “Don’t get me wrong, I  _ am--grateful  _ to be alive, of course. I’m just trying to understand.”

  
Caleb holds her hands, and squeezes gently. “Because you are good and kind people, who did not deserve to die unjustly. Because you are my parents, and your only crime was loving me. Because I am building a new life, now,” he gestures towards Essek. “With him, and I want you to be a part of that future.”

“Because he wanted to see if he could,” Essek chirps, and Caleb glares. 

“Well, he’s not wrong,” he confesses under his breath, barely loud enough for Una to hear him, and then he hugs his parents tightly. “Because I love you,” he says, louder. “Isn’t that enough?”

It is. It is. It is.

* * *

They cannot stay; technically, by staying as long as they have already, they are putting the time they came from in grave danger.

“Use the last name Widogast,” Caleb-Bren tells them, and hands his father a sack of gold containing more money than Leofric or Una have seen before in their lives. “There is a house in Felderwin, next door to the Smyth’s home. You are interested in purchasing it. This should be enough to cover the cost of travel, and the house, and getting settled in.”

Una frowns, her world upside down and her life in ruins. But she is alive, and so is her son. “Will we see you again?”

“Yes,” Caleb acknowledges. “But--it’s important that you do not seek me out, or the timeline could rupture.”

“We thought about just bringing you back to the future with us,” Essek explains tentatively. “But we aren’t sure what that would do to you, physically. It’s one thing to move backwards through time, but forward?” He shakes his head. 

“Besides, then you’d be the same age as me forever,” Caleb jokes, attempting to bring levity to their situation. “And that would just be strange, no?”

He’s right, of course, but that doesn’t stop her from crying. 

“There will be an attack on Felderwin in Horisal, 836. Make sure you are not in town on that day,” Essek tells them. “In fact, it wouldn’t be a bad idea to start heading towards Nicodranas right before then.”

“Nicodranas?” She asks, puzzled, wishing she had something to write these things down with. “On the coast?”

“The Menagerie Coast,” Caleb elaborates. “There is a wizard there named Yussah. He will be able to help you once you get there. If you tell him I sent you, and that it is important that I not see you, not until 838 Fessuran, he will understand, and he will keep you safe.”

“Yussah is a gold dragon,” Essek blurts out, and Una feels her heart leap into her throat. “But he looks like an elf most of the time. He will protect you.”

Caleb glares at him.

“What?” Essek argues, his face slightly flushed. “I would feel safer, knowing I had a  _ gold dragon _ to protect me if I was traveling across the country!”

“My parents are  _ farmers _ ,” Caleb argues, indignant. “They don’t know the difference between a gold dragon and a red one! They are both  _ dragons _ \--”

“Oh,” Essek blinks. “A gold dragon is a good dragon. Chromatic dragons are evil--”

Leofric moves suddenly, grabbing Caleb and hugging him close. “I don’t understand what’s going on, and I don’t know half of what he’s saying,” he gestures to Essek. “And you are working with a  _ drow _ , which goes against everything I was ever taught to believe, everything that I believe is right for our country.”

Una  _ wants  _ to say something, but she waits. She is, after all, a dutiful wife.

“But you saved my  _ life _ . And you saved my wife. And you claim to be my son, from the future, who used magic to go back in time to save us both. And I don’t know that I believe that, exactly,” Leofric pulls away, and rests his head on Caleb’s forehead. “But I know that less than an hour ago, my house was on fire, and you got me out of a burning building, where I would have died had you not intervened. And I know you’ve shown up at various times in my wife’s life and helped us like a guardian angel, just when we needed you most,” Leofric argues, pulling away from Caleb slightly. “So if you tell me I need to go to Felderwin, I will go to Felderwin. And if you tell me my name is Leofric Widogast now, then I suppose that it is. And if I am supposed to trust a  _ goddamn dragon _ , then I will, because you have  _ earned my trust.” _

He leans forward again, and rests his forehead against Caleb’s. “And if you are really my son, then I must tell you how  _ incredibly proud  _ I am of you, and what you’ve managed to do.”

“ _ Papa _ ,” Caleb chokes, and then he’s sobbing in Leofric’s arms, and Una drags Essek away slightly, to give them some privacy.

* * *

Alone with the drow, Una takes his hands into her own, and squeezes them gently. “Thank you,” she tells him softly, quiet as to not disturb the father-son conversation nearby. “For helping my son save us. And for loving him, when I could not.”

The drow’s face flushes. He doesn’t blush the way a human would, but she can read the embarrassment on his face. “It’s no trouble. Really, Caleb did most of the work, I just helped with some of the math at the end.”

“Does he prefer that name now?” Una asks, genuinely curious. “Caleb?”

“It’s the only thing I’ve ever called him,” Essek confesses. “I think he feels the name Bren is a bit too loaded, considering his past. But he may feel differently, coming from you. That would be a question to ask him.”

“I will,” she says, taking his advice. “How did you get involved with my son, if you don’t mind me asking? Drow are--”

“Rare in these parts?” He winks at her, and she grins.

“ _ Complicated _ , in the Empire, is what I was going to say.”

“You aren’t wrong,” he pauses for a moment. “I--how I got involved with Caleb is a complicated question. We sort of--” he bites his lower lip, his fangs poking through just a bit. “I was on a dark path, when I met him. And he helped me find the light again, showed me a path forward, gave me a chance at redemption, even though I did not deserve it.” He looks back at where Caleb is crying on his father’s shoulders. “I would follow him to the depths of the seven planes of hell and back.”

He may be a handsome young man, but she is struck suddenly by his youth. “Where are your own parents?” She asks him, wanting to know more about the man who stole her son’s heart, and helped save her own life. “Did they also die?”

“Ah, no. Well, my father did, but it wasn’t undeserved. And my mother,” he looks back over at Caleb quietly. “Well. She wouldn’t understand.”

“Are you sure?” Una asks. “It’s hard to be a mother. She may just need time, or--”

“My mother doesn’t love me,” Essek says calmly, as plainly as if he were commenting on the color of the night sky. “Not the way you love your son.”

Her heart breaks a little bit.

“I’m sure she meant to love me, of course, but then she got so busy, you know, and she’s an  _ Umavi _ , a perfect soul, she just didn’t have the time, especially since I never turned out to be anyone special, and--”

Una has wrapped her arms around him before she can think the better of it, squeezing him in a tight hug.

He freezes like an antelope caught in a lion’s gaze at first, but then slowly he relaxes, and lets himself be hugged.   
  


“I am sorry that she did not treat you well.” Una says softly, refusing to let go of him.

“She didn’t treat me  _ poorly _ , she just--” He bites his lip. “I don’t know that I am explaining myself well.”

“Well, when we get back to your timeline, I hope you are prepared to have a mother who loves you,” Una tells him softly. 

“You don’t even  _ know  _ me.”

“I don’t have to,” Una says. She pulls him closer, and kisses the top of his head. “Because my son loves you very much, and that is enough for me to love you as well.”

He blinks at her, his eyes a little watery. “Is that a threat?”

“A promise,” she assures him. “Come on, then. I’d like to speak with Bren again before you have to leave.”

* * *

She does pull Bren aside before they vanish. “Are you going to marry him? Or have you already?”

“Oh,” Caleb shakes his head. “I’ve not had the chance to ask him yet.”

She blinks at him. “It has been a  _ decade _ .”

“For  _ you _ ,” he corrects her. “For me, it’s been a day. Maybe two, at most.”

“You--” she gasps at him, and then her mind makes the connection. “You were always wearing the same clothes. And you  _ never  _ aged.”

He smiles warmly at her. “I jumped back too far, when I first cast the spell. So then I jumped ahead, just a little bit, and managed to skip five years. Then I jumped again, and skipped two years. Then five again. Then six. Luckily, I ended up at the house just after the fire started, or else I would have had to jump back again, and who knows what effect that would have had on the timeline?”

“It’s so strange,” she muses, and pets Caleb’s face again. “So much time passed, for me. Sometimes I wondered if I made you up, a little imaginary friend, but then you’d show up again, and now I learn you are my  _ Bren _ . My only son.”

“I know you wanted a lot of children,” he tells her softly. “I am sorry that life did not work out that way for you. But I have friends, many of whom could use a mother figure in their lives. I hope, in time, that you will grow to love them, the way I do.”

She pats his face. “I’m certain I will,” she beams, eager at the prospect. “That, or you and Essek will have to give my lots of grandchildren.”

“We, ah, will see about that,” he blushes at her teasing. 

  
She leans her forehead against his. “I will see you again, won’t I?”

“Of course,” he promises. “Tomorrow, or 18 years from now. You are going to help me pick out an engagement ring, one you think he’ll like.”

“In Nicodranas,” she repeats from earlier, making sure she’s got everything right. “In the dragon Yussah’s tower.”

“Exactly.” He kisses her sweetly on the forehead. “I will see you soon.”

“I love you,” she tells him, because it is important that he knows that.

“I love you too, Mutti.”

And then he is gone, and it’s just her and Leofric, and a long road to Felderwin. 


End file.
